After You've Gone
by EnEnUnited
Summary: This story starts the morning after after Pete has abandonned Alex with Molly, and she's left seeking emotional support from her in-laws.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ashes to Ashes or any of the characters. This is merely my take on their world.**

*~*~*~*~*

Alex sat shivering in her dressing gown, shoulders hunched, staring sightlessly in to the distance. Eventually, she became aware of a gentle hand on her shoulder and glanced up to see her mother-in-law perched on the settee next to her, smiling and holding out a cup of tea.

"Here you are sweetheart," she said gently, passing her the cup, "drink this, it'll warm you up at least- careful, don't spill it."

Taking the cup, Alex tried to force a smile but, as she attempted to sustain it, her muscles gave way to crumple in to tears. It wouldn't have mattered if she had spilled the tea all over herself, she was numb inside.

A sudden shriek over the baby monitor sent a jolt right through her system.

"Molly..." she cried suddenly, panicking slightly, making to get up. Margery, however, took her firmly by the shoulders and pushed her gently, but determinedly, back onto the sofa.

"It's alright love, Bryan's in with her, you just concentrate on yourself. You haven't slept a wink."

Alex nodded numbly, unable to shift the image from her head- the terrible things he'd said to her- what she'd said- and then he'd just gone.

A little while later, soft mutterings came to her through the slightly ajar kitchen door. She opened her eyes, realising that she must have nodded off, and lay there listening to the hushed conversation coming from the kitchen.

"Is there any news?"

"No, he hasn't called since...little sh...I mean how could he leave her like this? With a child as well- we didn't bring him up to behave like this!" Bryan sounded livid.

Margery sighed. "I just don't know what to do with her- she's distraught, poor love..."

Alex sighed. She didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't know where Pete was now.

She didn't care...

*~*~*~*~*

The next two weeks passed, with Alex taking each day as it came, slowly adapting to life as a single mother, gradually learning not to jump every time the phone rang. Her biggest concern now was her daughter- their future. Surely she couldn't return to work with a six month old child solely dependent on her?

One evening, just as Alex had finished bathing Molly and dressing her in her baby grow, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she called, the warm glow and sweet talc perfume emitting from her baby filling her, for the first time in a long while, with a great sense of peace and happiness.

Bryan stuck his head around the door, "Can I come in?" The mildly cautious look on his face concerning her slightly, Alex picked up her daughter and moved to a sitting position on the bed.

"Sure."

Her father-in-law came in and perched on the edge of the bed.

"The thing is Alex, Margery and I were wondering if you thought it might be a good idea if you came out to dinner with us tonight..."

"Oh, look Bryan, it's kind but..."

He cut through her, not aggressively, but determinedly, in a voice that tells a child that their parent knows what's best.

"Now come on Alex, it'll do you both good- go out there and show the world that you can cope with this...eh," he smiled, tickling his granddaughter's chin, "show her off!"

Alex couldn't help softening and, though something deep within wasn't certain, she found herself agreeing.

*~*~*~*~*

The air was chill that evening as the four of them climbed into the car and so Alex clutched her daughter to her chest.

"So where exactly are we going?" she asked as she fastened Molly's car seat.

"Oh not far," Margery replied, "just a little place in Fenchurch- Evan mentioned it once and it seemed nice enough the last time we went."

*~*~*~*~*

The restaurant was pleasant enough- an Italian place with low lighting and tables in intimate corners and a mural along the back wall. She couldn't explain it, but Alex had the distinct feeling she had been here before.

Having decided what they were going to have, Margery slipped over to the counter to order their food. Glancing around, Alex caught sight of a powerful-looking grey haired man sitting sullenly in a dark corner, apparently staring in her direction before, upon catching her eye, hastily looking away.

Just then, Margery returned, smiling but looking a little confused.

"Margery, what's up?"

She shook her head, "You know it's funny- I had just finished telling him what Bryan and I wanted, but before I could tell him your order he already knew it- veal scaloppini!"

"Well, he probably heard us talking about it," Alex reasoned away, her determined sense of logic carrying her through.

"Yes," Margery muttered, "you're probably right."

Alex looked up to the counter and was surprised to see the proprietor smiling, almost reminiscently, in her direction. Smiling politely back, Alex decided that it must just be her daughter he was smiling at- it was surprising how people reacted to tiny babies.

The rest of the evening passed without incident and soon the party were making their way out, Molly spark out in Alex's arms. None of them looked back as they made their way up the steps and out in to the dark night, but if they had, they would have caught sight of the Italian owner watching affectionately after them, before rushing over to the sullen looking man in the corner.

"Signore Hunt, did you see...?"

"Yes Luigi," Gene Hunt growled back gruffly, "I saw her."

*~*~*~*~*

**Hope you enjoyed it- please leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Gene sat brooding amongst the early morning shadows playing on his kitchen wall, the ever present glass of whiskey twirling absent mindedly between his fingers. Thoughts raced through his mind, the drunken haze never quite able to block them out. Sighing, he got to his feet and, from a well-cluttered kitchen draw, pulled out a carefully folded slip of paper and placed it on the table, before re-reading the words which were, by now, burned in to his mind:

"_Margery and Bryan Drake are pleased to announce the marriage of their son, Peter Drake, to Miss Alexandra Price, daughter of the late Caroline and Tim Price and Step daughter to Evan White..."_

Alex Price...married to Peter Drake...Alex Drake. Gene would never forget the thought process as he had read these words for the first time. It was her alright. He would know the radiant smile of his former DI anywhere. He stared now at the smiling photograph that had accompanied the announcement. He hadn't slept for days after he had discovered it, reliving over and over in his mind the conversations they had had. All the things she'd said to him. Her devotion to the Prices, her relationship with that Evan bloke. _'Complicated'_ didn't even begin to describe it. Then there had been the bombshell. _"I'm from the future."_ The pain had been unbearable. Now he didn't know which was worse, believing that she could have told him such a barefaced lie...or discovering that she had been telling the truth.

Seeing them together in the restaurant that evening had been the final straw. He had known her immediately and, looking a little closer, knew the couple she was with to be Bryan and Margery Drake. They were a family he was not likely to forget, given his DI's introduction to them had been to declare their son _"a two faced, spineless little shit...", _something Gene had thought most unfair given the fact that he was merely fourteen years old, whilst the idea of this boy being the father of his colleague's daughter had given him the shivers.

Driven by a compulsion stronger than an irate Raymondo's punches, Gene found himself determined to see his DI once more. It was not difficult to discover her address- it was surprising how far a memorable reputation could get you in the police force, even if you were retired, and soon Gene Hunt found himself seated, stake out style, a mere few metres from Alex Drake's door, the compulsion to stride up to the front door and strike up a conversation almost unbearable.

*~*~*~*~*

Two years had now passed since that fateful evening in Luigi's and, although Gene had spent many an evening dutifully watching over his former DI's abode, a deep seated fear of emotion had eternally rendered him unable to progress from this role of obedient observer. Deep inside, something ate away at him. Not greed, not fear, but guilt. Guilt at his harsh words to this deeply troubled woman, guilt at his recollection of his accusations against her. It took a mere glance at this young mother with her daughter to comprehend the depths of adoration and devotion that she had for her, and yet Gene had dared to suggest she barely tried.

It had troubled him greatly and all he desired now was some way of making it up to her, of taking care of them both, in some small way. His chance was to come sooner than he would think.

It was early one Friday morning and, given his immense dislike of remaining in his lonely home alone, Gene had decided to slip out of his front door early for a walk and a think. He was just rounding the corner next to a busy main road, thronging with rush hour traffic, when he caught sight of the young family striding down the pavement towards them, Alex looking a little flustered. Panicking slightly, Gene was about to turn tail and disappear in the opposite direction, when he caught sight of the toddler breaking loose from her mother's grasp and tearing away towards the road. Without thinking, Gene tore towards her and grasped her by the hand, pulling her away from the road, inches away from a speeding car.

"Woah there, little lady!" he muttered to the small child, who was grinning excitedly in a way that only toddlers do.

"Molly!" came a cry from further up the path. Glancing up, Gene saw Alex come running down the pavement after her daughter, a look of fear in her face.

"Thankyou _so_ much!" she cried to Gene, as she grasped her daughter's hand. "I don't know what happened, one minute she was with me the next..."

Gene found himself blushing. "Oh, y'know, it was nothin'"

"And you madam," she continued, crouching down next to her daughter, "don't you _ever _do that again, do you hear me?"

The little girl began to cry. Alex sighed, "Oh Molls, come here," she muttered, pulling her daughter close to her, the shock and anxiety of the past few minutes clearly visible in her face. Gathering Molly, she stood to face Gene, a smile spreading across her face. His heart raced.

"I honestly don't know how to thank you," she said again.

A little embarrassed, Gene stared at his feet, "Oh, y'know, let's just say I owed it to a friend," he mumbled, before nodding politely and turning to walk away down the path.

Alex stared in wonder after this strange man as he disappeared down the pavement. There was something about him, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, which seemed familiar. A few seconds later, however, a little tug at her sleeve returned her gaze to the small girl at her side and soon, her eyes only for this child, she forgot all about the meeting entirely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay – new job and life catching up with me!!**

**Note to say: don't own Ashes to Ashes or anything to do with it.**

**Please leave a comment, which I will endeavour to reply to!**

*~*~*~*~*

Alex burned with pride as her daughter paraded around the living room in her newly purchased school uniform, the occasion of her first day at school apparently posing a very exciting prospect for the four year old. Her mother's heart fluttered. She couldn't believe it- to her, Molly would always be the tiny defenceless infant she had been when she first held her in her arms, and yet now she was off to school. Blinking away a tear, the police officer caught sight of the time,

"Right, come on then sweetheart, we'd best be off, don't want to be late, do you?" she asked motivationally, forcing a smile for her daughter's sake and fighting off a wave of emotion. She was just reaching for her daughter's coat when Molly's face crumpled into a flood of tears. Alex sighed.

"Oh Molls, come here," she cooed, pulling the little girl towards her and hugging her tightly, "Hey, come on, it'll be alright. You'll have fun, meet lots of nice people and, hey, Evan will be here to pick up...you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked persuasively, looking deeply into her young daughter's eyes. Molly sniffled, nodding slowly.

"Good girl," Alex smiled back, encouragingly, tapping her affectionately on the nose before straightening up and reaching for the immaculate little pink backpack that was lying expectantly on the sofa.

*~*~*~*~*

She felt her daughter's grasp of her hand tighten as they approached the school gates and listened as the steady thumping of her shiny new school shoes upon the ground slowly became more hesitant the nearer they got. She sighed. This was going to be a big step for both of them. Indeed, it was only the thought that she would, herself, have to hurry off to work after having dropped her daughter off that stopped Alex from standing outside the gates all day, counting down the seconds till she could bring her home again.

*~*~*~*~*

Her anxiety was eased slightly by the numerous tasks that had to be performed upon her arrival at work, so that she was barely able to spare more than a few anxious minutes' thought for her daughter here and there throughout the day until, at three o'clock on the dot, Evan White appeared at the door to pick her up before the pair of them adjourned to the school gates.

The thrill of relief and excitement was overwhelming as Alex caught sight of her daughter bounding up the school path towards her, a broad grin spread across her face. No tears, as Alex had feared. Indeed, it transpired that Molly had had a whale of a time, having met a lot of exciting new people and made a number of friends. She chatted on excitedly as the trio made their way home, an explosion of names and descriptions spilling from her voice, leaving Alex's mind reeling.

Suddenly, Evan pulled up, apparently having caught sight of something, or someone, over the road, and was now staring in rapt interest.

"Evan?" Alex asked in surprise as she caught sight of his amazed expression. "What's up?"

"What?" her god-father muttered, suddenly catching himself, having been lost in thought. "No, sorry, I, er, I think I've just seen someone...a blast from the past...Look, you don't mind if I stay and have a word do you? I won't be long."

"No," Alex replied, smiling, "we'll be fine, won't we sweetheart? You can tell Evan all about it when he gets home," and, smiling affectionately at him, she turned and continued to walk, hand in hand with her daughter, who was still regaling her with tales, down the pavement.

Watching them go, the solicitor turned back to peer across the road and again caught sight of the man by whom his attention had been captured a few moments before. Glancing swiftly up and down the road, he hurriedly crossed to the opposite pavement, calling as he went.

"I say, Mr. Hunt, isn't it?"

The man looked up, taken aback at hearing his name, and a flash of recognition lit his face. Glancing around, his eye was suddenly caught by Evan's former companions as they made their way down the path, and a pained expression spread across his face.

"Mr. White," he replied, cold though not impolite, "this is an unexpected pleasure."

"Yes, well, I was just helping Alex collect her daughter from school- it's her first day," he said, an affectionate smile spreading across his face. Gene nodded, uncertain of what to say.

"Er, look, I er, I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for the card you sent on the anniversary of her parents'...well, you know, it meant a lot to know someone remembered."

Gene nodded again, looking down nervously at his feet. _I'm not likely to forget_, he thought to himself.

"Oh, well, y'know, it was a difficult time..." he muttered.

Evan nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, can't believe it'll be 20 years next year, imagine that..."

Then a smile spread across his face. "Hey, whatever happened to your DI of the time?"

Gene was stunned, staring at White in disbelief. What could he possibly tell him? Eventually, however, he gathered himself.

"Oh, I er, I think she prefers to spend time with her family these days," he muttered, glancing pointedly in the direction Alex and her daughter had walked off in just moments before.

"Quite," Evan nodded, "right, well, I'd best be off- cooking dinner. It was, er, interesting to see you again."

"Yeah," Gene muttered, a little embarrassed, "you an all."

*~*~*~*~*

**I'd love to know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ashes to Ashes or any of its characters. This is merely my take on their awesome world!**

This was it.

Gene's hand shook and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he grasped his phone, Layton's words wringing in his ears,

"_I got a piece of your past, standing right here in front of me. Tim and Caroline Price's daughter."_

And then he had heard her voice, _"How'd you know my parents?" _She had sounded so scared, though with that same defiant snarl that he had come to love.

His initial response was to yell down the phone, to pursue this maggot and rip his innards out.

"You coward Layton," he had wanted to scream, "let her go this minute you bastard or I'll personally see to it that you never see the light of day again!"

That was what he had wanted to shout.

In reality, however, he knew it would do no good. This had to happen. Alex Drake HAD to be shot by Arthur Layton, HAD to wake up in 1981- he STILL had no idea what that was all about- and certainly HAD to meet DCI Gene Hunt. Silently he cursed Chris Skelton for ever persuading him to watch Doctor flipping Who that time- it had got him thinking- paradoxes- what if Drake HAD been telling him the truth? What if she HAD been shot by Arthur Layton and awoken with him in 1981? And what if she didn't get shot, would that then create a paradox? Gene had no idea. All he did know was that he couldn't take any chances, and he couldn't face the idea that the DI would never know who he was. That was what had hurt the most. And so, with all of this confusion still spinning in his brain, he took a deep breath, still unable to believe what he was about to do.

"You don't scare me Layton," he growled, hoping that the abject terror that he felt inside was not quite so apparent in his tone, "I don't respond to threats."

"Well that's your choice," came the rasping reply before the phone went dead.

*~*~*~*

The DCI had not seen Drake for a number of years, though he had often scanned newspaper articles for any news of the DI, driven by a tiny part of his brain that could not quite let her go. He had wanted to believe her, that she had been telling him the truth all those years ago. Even when the scars were still fresh, he had found it hard to fathom that after all of their discussions and smoky evenings spent in Luigi's, that she could have had such disregard for him as to fob him off with such a blatant untruth. He had read of her graduation from Hendon, her exceptional performance in Langley, with the CIA, and had always scanned the birthday mentions in the local papers for any messages either to or from her, desperately quashing any desire to send her cards or greetings. No. Alex Drake knew nothing of Gene Hunt when she had arrived and that was how it had to stay. That was what the Doctor always said anyway.

"Ta very much Chris," he had muttered as he forced himself away from the birthday cards in Clintons.

And yet, after all this time, no mention of any shootings. He was not too late.

*~*~*~*

Now, as he scrabbled around his home for coat and shoes, his mind was filled with just one big question: How the hell was he going to find her?

Police training had kicked in from the off as he considered all of the evidence and any allusions she had made to places or people. Two particular things had stuck in his mind. One was something that had arisen from his many and frequent mildly frustrating conversations with Luigi, the little Italian still never having quite gotten over the loss of such a beloved customer and always enjoyed a reminisce about the times they had spent together. During one such discussion, into which Gene had only ever entered half heartedly, and only ever when there was no one else with whom to nurse a pint- emotions were so not his thing- the proprietor had mentioned something strange that Alex had once said to him- about having been "found...down by the river..." At the time, the DCI had dismissed it- they all knew what Alex could be like- especially when she had had a drink- and her colleagues had given up taking any notice of her random outbursts- but, in the months following, he had thought more and more about it.

What was more, it backed up one of his own suspicions. When Drake had made her little 'confession' to him, she had said something which had stuck in his mind all these years- "I woke up here, with you." Maybe, just maybe, she was shot- or, at least, _would_ be shot, in the same place that they had first met all those years earlier- the London Docks. His head buzzed with all of this supposition- how could he be sure? However, supposition or not, it was the only lead he had and so, without further thought, he made his way to the Docks.

*~*~*~*

Pulling around by the river was very surreal, with a touch of déjà-vu for the old DCI. He did not altogether remember why he, Chris and Ray had been making their way to the area on that fateful day all those years ago, but he did vividly remember the sight of DI Alex Drake dressed as a prostitute in front of the old warehouses. WDI Bollinger Knickers was born. Would she be meeting him now? His head began to spin again. He really didn't understand any of this. Best to keep it simple.

He peered around frantically, knowing that every second was vital if he was going to save his former colleague, though he had no idea where to begin.

After several hours of frantic searching, Gene had still found no trace of the DI- the river really was a bloody big place- talk about needles and haystacks. It was getting late now and, having called for police back-up several hours earlier, the former DCI was now surrounded by nervous looking plod, slightly shaken by Gene's barked commands. He really was not good at dealing with stressful situations.

"You alright there pal?" a Scottish slur came from behind him.

Gene whirled around to catch sight of an elderly looking man, the tell-tale signs vagrancy very apparent in his appearance, standing a few meters away, watching him with interest. Now, normally, Gene preferred to keep himself to himself and do things on his own. However, since this situation was far from normal and four eyes were better than two, Gene decided to seek help.

"Listen, I, um, I think someone might've been shot around 'ere somewhere an' I need to find 'er," he muttered, blushing slightly. "You 'aven't seen any one 'ave yer?"

"No, sorry pal," the Scot replied, shaking his head, "I'll help you look though, shall I?"

Gene nodded, deeply grateful for this kind gesture, though uncertain how to, and uncomfortable about showing it. He couldn't do this on his own.

It had been a couple of minutes, with Gene pacing around the bank, looking for any signs of a scuffle, when there came a cry from inside the barge,

"In here, pal, I think I've found something,"

Without even thinking, Gene tore down the gangway and into the barge, where a terrible, yet wonderful sight met his eyes.

The vagrant was kneeling over the body of a young woman, talking soothingly to her,

"It's okay pretty lady, you're breathin'," before turning to Gene, "She needs an ambulance, have you got a phone?"

Gene nodded, absently, his eyes glued on Alex. What had they done to her? Her face was covered in blood and the bullet wound in her forehead was horrific. Gene felt hot, nausea searing through him. Was he too late?

"Here, I'll do it," the little man replied softly, having noticed Gene's shocked expression. Gently, he removed the DCI's phone from his hand and made the call for the ambulance, Hunt, for a second, unable to move.

**Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and would, again, love to hear your comments!**


	5. Chapter 5

Gene stood back dejectedly, watching helplessly as a fleet of ambulance drivers and police officers surrounded his former DI. He couldn't stand not being able to _do_ anything, as he was merely pushed to one side as the professionals moved in. He supposed that what he had really wanted, what he had dreamed of, was to be the one who had saved Alex, on his own. That he would have found her, given her a gentle slap or resuscitation of some kind and she would have woken in his arms- her hero. Now who was living in a dream world?

A little embarrassed at the naivety and childishness of this realisation, the former DCI, his cheeks burning, glanced around nervously, before sighing and backing away. There was nothing more he could do.

*~*~*~*~*

Quietly letting himself back into his house, the DCI let out a deep sigh, not something he would _ever_ let anyone else see. There was _not_ a tear fighting its way through from the back of his tear ducts. Must be the dust getting in his eyes. House cleaning was _not _his forte.

Entering the kitchen, he dropped his car keys down on to the table and slumped down into the chair, coming face to face with familiar bottle of whiskey that was ever present upon the kitchen table. Normally, of course, he would have grasped it and reached for the nearest glass but, suddenly, a rush of nausea prevented him. Somehow, now, he could not shift Bolls from his mind, the very sight of this bottle on the table reminding him of all the times they had shared, drowning their sorrows and the unfairness of the streets of London in the many glasses that they had shared of the amber liquid, in his office, Luigi's, her living room...

Gene reached for some kitchen roll. _Really must see to that dust_, he thought determinedly to himself as his eyeballs prickled.

He pulled the florist's receipt out of his pocket and stared at it. He had called in on his way back and spent a good half an hour browsing and considering which might be the best ones to send. Realising straight away that a bunch of red roses would not be appropriate, he had quickly also by passed the white lilies- he was no expert but even Gene Hunt knew the connotations of such plants. In the end he had relented and sought advice from a kindly looking middle aged woman behind the counter, and together they had selected a mixed bouquet, along with a note, which was to be delivered straight to the hospital.

*~*~*~*~*

Having moped around his dingy home for what seemed liked hours, eventually, the DCI had had enough. However precious little he could do for Alex at the hospital, it was better than sitting about here doing nothing.

After having showered, shaved and changed- it was odd but, although he knew that Alex would barely see him today, if ever- he didn't like to think about that- an odd compulsion within him had forced him to want to look his absolute best for his colleague- Gene hurried out to his car and down to the hospital.

He strode into the reception and was directed by a young looking receptionist- she can only 'ave been about 12, Gene thought to himself, towards a corridor on the third floor, where a familiar face met his gaze.

"Mr. Hunt!" Evan cried in surprise, getting quickly to his feet, "Er, what are you doing here?"

Gene stared at him. He looked dreadful, the tell-tale signs of freshly drying tears surrounding his eyes. Then a look of realisation grew in his face.

"Of course you did- it was you...sent the flowers! We sent one, obviously, but Molly and I were a little surprised to see two bunches waiting here for her when she arrived..." The ageing solicitor slowly dissolved into tears again at the reminder of their situation.

Without knowing what he was doing, Gene suddenly felt immensely strengthened, and found himself grabbing White Evan by the shoulders and shaking him gently.

"Ey, now come on," he said motivationally but not unkindly, "she needs you to be strong, alright? Now you just take a deep breath. Now I might not know much but I do know that Alex is a strong woman, alright? She's been through a lot, but she's a fighter. I don't think for a minute that she's going to let that little scrotum Layton beat 'er, right?"

Evan nodded weakly, and Gene reciprocated, patting him manfully, a little embarrassed, on the shoulder, sighing and trying to catch his breath. It was strange but, being in that situation almost gave him greater strength, as though he was a DCI again. These people needed his help and protection and no-one was going get in his way.

_Whatever you need me to do Bolly,_ he thought to himself, _I'll do it._

His reverie was broken suddenly by a succession of shouting from the ward, followed by a faintly angry, yet very officious sounding nurse's voice telling the man to calm down. Evan sighed.

"He's been doing that since we got here. Another patient. Martin Summers I think they said his name was..."

Gene stared in disbelief. _No, surely not?_ It wouldn't exactly be the strangest thing that had happened to him that day.

Still a little dazed by his experiences, the former DCI slumped down into a chair next to Evan.

"So, er, what's the news?" he muttered, gruffly.

Evan sighed, again, and cleared his throat. "Well, er, she went into surgery a couple of hours back, to remove the bullet," his voice wavered slightly but he managed to continue, "and now all we can do is wait till they bring her back."

Gene nodded, absently, trying to think of something to say but failing and so the pair of them just sat in silence. It was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable when, suddenly, the doors burst open and an excitable looking young girl bounded up the corridor.

"It's out, Evan!" she grinned, running up to her god-father. "They've got the bullet out!"

White rushed to his feet and embraced her, lifting her off the ground.

"But that's wonderful!" he beamed, turning to grin at Gene, whose own heart had begun to perform somersaults. Was it all soon to be over?

The little girl continued. "The doctor said that with plenty of rest and barring any complications, she's going to wake up!"

*~*~*~*~*

Not wishing to intrude on the happy group as Evan and Molly went to impart the good news to a still unconscious Alex, who had, by now, been wheeled back to the ward, Gene slipped off to the hospital cafeteria, where he forced down a particularly awful cup of coffee and, the sudden relief of the news of the operation's success having made him realise how hungry he was, ate a plate of spaghetti, just for old time's sake.

*~*~*~*~*

He was just re-commencing his vigil over the hospital room, however, when something amazing happened. Two nurses were chatting excitedly as they left Alex's ward and, when he heard what they were saying, Gene could not believe his ears.

"I can't believe it," the younger of the two women was saying, "I mean, they don't normally start talking this soon after an operation do they? And yet that Drake woman seemed very definite in what she muttered."

"Didn't make a lot of sense though did it? I mean, who is he? This 'Gene'?"

The old DCI could have burst out laughing. Finally, after all this time. All this wonder, confusion and paranoia. Finally, a clear indication that he had, indeed, found the right person. _His_ Alex Drake.

"I'm 'ere for yer Bolly," he muttered defiantly to himself, "you just give me the word and I'll be there!"

*~*~*~*~*

That night, Gene slept better than he had done in long time. He had enjoyed a very vivid dream, in which he and Alex were back in the 80s streets of London, chasing cars full of blundering criminals and thieves, each of whom they overcame easily and brought to justice. The dream team were back together once more.

He was awoken, in the early hours of the morning, by a high pitched beeping noise- really must change that bloody ring tone, he thought to himself, remembering that he had given the number to Evan in case there was any news over night. What he heard sent his mind into a turmoil.

White, once again, sounded distraught.

"They, um, they think there's an infection...Could be serious...they've put her on some more advanced medication but all we can do is wait...it's kill or cure time, apparently..." he broke off.

Gene's heart thumped. No. Not now, they had come so close. He could not lose Bolly again. _Not now. _

*~*~*~*~*

He tore into the hospital car-park, almost taking the paint off a nearby Porsche in his haste.

His worst fears were realised, however, when he re-entered the bustling reception. Walking towards him across the foyer, a tear-stained Evan was leading a pale, teary-eyed Molly towards the cafeteria.

No, he thought to himself, panic stricken, No!

Evan glanced up at him and managed to mutter,

"They, er, they tried the medication- the full fifty mills but it didn't work...she's slipped further into a coma..."

Gene didn't wait to hear the rest. He didn't want to. All he could think of doing was to run towards Alex's ward, be at her bedside when she needed him most. Several nurses gave him disapproving looks as he ran down the corridors, and one or two shouted after him but he didn't care.

As he approached her bedside, he gasped. She looked so peaceful. How could there possibly be anything _that _wrong with her.

"Come on Bolls," he found himself begging, softly, "the nurses'll be back in a minute. I need yer to wake up, okay...er, what if I gave you a slap, would that 'elp? Bolly?"

Just then, a legion of nurses, lead by an angry looking doctor, strode up to him.

"Excuse me, sir," she stated, pointedly, "this kind of behaviour is not acceptable. Kindly wait outside whilst this patient is seen to."

The next thing the former DCI knew, he was being gently, yet firmly, lead back into the corridor.

_No,_ he thought, _I can't leave 'er._

"Bolly!" he cried, louder, "BOLLY!"


	6. Chapter 6

Gene slumped back onto the hard plastic seating, a little embarrassed at how he had reacted. The same response as when he had visited her all those years ago. It all came flooding back to him now. The horror. The guilt. But at least this time he wasn't responsible for her injuries. So why did it feel like he was?

If only he had stood up to Layton on the phone, tried to stop him... If Alex now died, it would be all his fault. So what if she had never known who he was?- at least she would be alive, little Molly would have a mother, the police force a damn good copper...

As he sat there, self pity and contempt flowing over him, he slowly became aware of a soft sobbing noise coming from a little way off. Glancing down the corridor, he noticed a shadowy figure, hunched up, head buried in her arms, shaking violently as a torrent of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Drake's daughter.

He hadn't noticed it before, but something about this small child reminded him greatly of Alex Price, the lost,vulnerable soul whom he had rescued in the aftermath of her parents' horrific explosion in 1981, who would later become the feisty, self assured, yet at the same time compassionate young woman he had come to know and respect. Thinking about it, he noticed that Molly, too, had carried the same gleeful glint in her eye that the DCI had so often admired in her mother.

Quietly, he slowly got to his feet and made his way carefully towards her, easing himself down onto the chair next to her.

"You know I, um, I knew yer grandmother," he mumbled quietly into the darkness, "very strong woman. Don't think she liked me very much," he added, after a moment's thought. "But what I do know is that she loved your mom very much, and would've done _anythin'_ for 'er," he paused for a moment and, glancing down to where the sobbing child had been, was met with a wide eyed young woman, hooked on his every word. Cheeks flushing, Gene cleared his throat, "Any way, when I met yer mom, one of the first things I learnt was just how strong and determined she was, just like 'er mother," he continued, softly, rubbing his chin at the memory. "I also learnt that, just like your grandmother, she would've done anything for 'er daughter, no matter what 'appened, she would fight to find a way back to her, no matter what, or who, stood in her way."

The little girl had by now stopped crying and, for a second, through the soft smile and shining eyes that looked up at Gene, Alex Drake herself could have been in the room.

Threatened by a deep urge to well up himself- something that _never_ happened- the DCI had, again, to look away from her, blinking ferociously. Once danger had passed, he was able to take a deep breath and, somehow taking strength from her mother's indirect appearance in the room,say,

"Just you remember, little lady, your mom's made of sterner stuff, okay? But, just in case you ever need anythin', just you call on the Gene Genie."

At that moment, the doors at the end of the corridor swung open to reveal Evan, flustered from his nervous discussions with doctors. Just in time, Gene managed to leap to his feet and make his way across to the window at the opposite end of the corridor. In the past few minutes, the DCI had come dangerously close to an emotional outburst, and he certainly didn't need to share it with Evan White.

*~*~*~*~*

Gene awoke with a start, cold sunlight streaming through the window behind him. Coming to, he became aware of excited mutterings from further down the corridor. Looking up, he saw Evan hurrying towards him, looking relieved.

"It's looking good, Mr. Hunt," he said, hands rubbing together excitedly, "They've changed her medication, reduced the levels or something and, well, her coma's been reduced- she's going to wake up," he breathed, unable to keep the emotion from his voice.

"You were right," the girl beamed from beside him, "Thanks!"

Not for the first time, Gene's cheeks flushed a deep crimson and he nodded, nervously, in what he hoped was some kind of friendly acknowledgement.

"We've been in to see her, but, well, doctors say it's still early- could be a couple of hours yet so," White explained, pausing to address his young charge, "I'm taking this little madam home for some rest!"

"Oh but Evan!" Molly protested. Her godfather, however, was having none of it.

"No Molls, you've been here all night. And we'll be back here when she wakes up, okay? Come on scrap."

Reluctantly, Molly allowed herself to be lead away, feet shuffling down the corridor.

Wearily, Gene rubbed his face in his hands and glanced down at his watch. 5.30 am. Just like old times. Someone had once commented that he practically lived in his office at the station. He sighed. There was no _practically_ about it.

*~*~*~*~*

About an hour and a half had passed and, shuffling alone back down the corridor with a lukewarm cup of coffee, the DCI was surprised to be faced with a commotion ahead of him. Spotting him, a nurse muttered, "There he is," and hurried towards him. His natural instinct tending towards the pessimistic, Gene instantly assumed the worst.

_She's dead. No, she can't give up, not now..._

"Excuse me sir?" the nurse was, by now, just yards from him.

"Hmm?" he grunted, mind racing.

"It's Ms. Drake. Her coma's weakened further and we think it best if someone's here with her, in case she wakes up."

Relief searing through him, followed closely by abject fear- what _would_ Alex think of him? Would she even recognise him?- Gene found himself following, trance like, into the room.

"I'll leave you to it then," the nurse muttered softly, as she clocked his awed expression, upon catching sight of the woman in the bed.

She was beautiful. Pale white skin glowing in the early morning sunlight now streaming in through the window, her youthful features smooth and peaceful in their slumber. But for the tightly bound bandage around her head, there was little sign of anything wrong at all.

Cheeks burning violently, Gene crept quietly to sit down on the chair at her bedside. He didn't know what made him do it- it might have been the peace emanating from the sleeping figure, nerves, or simply just force of habit- but, somehow, the DCI found himself talking quietly to her.

"You gave us quite a shock y'know Bolls," he mumbled quielty, "like to cause a fuss, don't yer?"

He sighed and rubbed his tiring eyes.

"Look at us, eh Bolls? Me fit only for the senile squad an' you? You look younger than the last time I saw yer. Some people 'ave all the luck, eh?" He felt a warm prickling sensation at the back of his eye- must be allergic to some of the chemicals they use in 'ere, he sniffed to himself.

"What am I doin' 'ere, he Bolls? Stupid, innit? Talkin' away to meself. Don't s'pose you'll even remember me..."

"I'm not likely to forget," The effect of this murmured response was electric and, whirling around to glance at the bed, Gene found himself staring in to the deep, golden brown eyes, of DI Alex Drake, smiling weakly.

*~*~*~*~*

It had been several days and, though recovering steadily, Alex was still weak, prompting her former colleague to keep his distance for a while, leaving her to her family.

After three days, however, enough was enough. Having lain awake night after night, unable to clear her face from his mind and wondering just how they were to continue from here, Gene decided to brave another visit.

Someone else, however, had other ideas. Mounting the hospital steps, and entering the reception, Gene began to hear signs that all was not as it should be.

"I want to see my daughter!" an angry male voice rang out across the foyer. Turning to glance in the direction of the commotion, the former DCI caught sight of a vaguely familiar looking man in his forties confronting a rather flustered looking Evan White, accompanied by an officious looking nurse. Peter Drake? The girl certainly bore some resemblance to him, and shared certain mannerisms, though, Gene was pleased to note, her charm was all her mother's.

"Will you please calm down, Sir?" the nurse cut through pointedly.

Peter, however, was having none of it.

"Calm down? No I bloody won't! I wanna see my daughter! Clearly she can't be looked after. Some mother she's got, letting her fall into the hands of some psychopath! What kind of a parent does that?!?"

That was when Gene Hunt lost it.

Hurling himself across the reception area, he grabbed Drake by the lapels, shaking with rage.

"Now you listen to me, son!" he spat, his face barely millimetres from Pete's, "I don't know who you think you are, but if you dare to come in here and claim that that woman is anything less than the perfect mother after all she's been through, I swear I'll hunt yer down and rip yer innards out, okay?"

Heart thumping, Gene threw him down onto a chair, sniffed in comtempt and stalked off down the corridor, an amazed nurse staring in wonder after him.

"You're mental!" a shaken Pete yelled after him as he stalked off, his vain attempt at defiance failing pitiably.

Breathing deeply in an effort to regain control, Gene stood thoughtfully on the hospital steps, mind racing. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so angry.

Just then, he became aware of a small voice from beside him,

"Thanks."

Taken by surprise, the DCI glanced up to catch sight of Evan, looking nervous.

"I don't know where it came from but..."

Gene grunted. He knew exactly where it had come from. For years he had searched for some way, psychologically, of punishing himself for his heartless words to to his DI all those years ago, or at least to make it up to her. Suddenly, when he had seen that same small part in himself in Peter Drake, that same cruel and utterly unfounded accusation, he had lashed out.

"Yeah, well," he mutted, a little embarrassed, "he was out of order."

"Honestly, Mr. Hunt, it was brilliant! Drake's been causing trouble since it happened, hassling his parents, continuously ringing me...Obviously we haven't told Alex but...I just wish she could have seen it!"

"Actually," came a cautious confession from just inside the door, "I did."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!**

**I don't own Ashes to Ashes or any of the characters...**

* * *

A mixture of nerves and excitement, Alex entered the canteen and glanced around. She was sure Evan had said he was in here so where...? And then she saw him, a large, grey haired, powerful figure hunched in the corner over a coffee cup. She smiled to herself- plus ça change...

Having fetched two cups of coffee- sadly, it was against hospital regulations to serve scotch, the DI made her way over to Gene's table, a warm glow of affection filling her as she approached- just like old times.

As if lost in a daze, the former DCI came to with a start as the cup appeared in front of him, a reaction which quickly transformed into a deep blush as he saw who was carrying it.

"Mind if I join you?" Alex asked with a smile, with just the smallest trepidation that he may say 'yes'.

"Er, no, course not," Gene mumbled, cheeks flushing. Quietly, the DI slid into the chair opposite and looked down at the plastic table top, unsure quite where to put her gaze or, for that matter, quite what to say. In the end she decided it was best to be professional and so, taking a deep breath, she spoke softly.

"I, er, I know it must have been a shock, Gene, but..."

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by a sharp exhalation of breath from her companion, shaking his head.

"Don't make excuses for me Bolls," he grunted, staring dejectedly down into his coffee, the guilt all too apparent in his features. Completely taken aback, Alex could do little but stammer,

"What?"

Gene, however, remained silent, cheeks continuing to burn, eyes fixed to the table top- emotions were _not_ his thing. Alex, however, had a good idea what he had meant _and_ what she should do about it.

Calmly, she took a deep breath- this wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done.

"You know, when I met Sam Tyler, I, um, I was the only person he trusted to tell about his experience, where he had been. And what did I do? I didn't believe him, ridiculed him almost. The one person he trusted, and I let him down..."

A slight prickling sensation at the back of her eyes, Alex took a deep breath and continued.

"What I'm trying to say gov, is...no-one can blame you, for your reaction- least of all...me..."

She stared at him imploringly, hoping for some signs of understanding. Gene, however, remained silent, staring down into his mug. This was hopeless. Indeed, Alex was almost on the verge of giving up on him- even she couldn't crack the ice cold veneer that was DCI Gene Hunt's protective shell. Suddenly, however, just as she began to form an excuse and make her way out of the situation, he began to nod thoughtfully for a couple of seconds, taking in what he had heard. After a moment, he glanced up, a glint forming in his eye,

"It's still gov then, is it?"

Alex grinned, barely able to hold back a laugh of relief, "Always,"

The DCI nodded, "Glad to 'ere it."

*~*~*~*~*~

A couple of days later, Alex sat contentedly on her hospital bed, surrounded by her packed-up belongings, waiting to be discharged. It was a strange feeling. In reality- whatever that was-she had only been away from home for a couple of weeks yet, in that short space of time, her life had changed irreparably forever.

Of course, the empirical person that she was, she knew that she should have been more amazed- shocked, even, that Gene Hunt had been real, that here he was now, considerably older maybe, but still _here._ And so was she. That was the main thing. And that was how she'd explained it. In her heart of hearts, she had always hoped that he would have been real, a hope encouraged by his apparent involvement in the aftermath of her parents' death. Given that it was something that she had desperately wanted, was there any need for an explanation?

She was due to be released at eleven am, as soon as the Doctor had spoken to her about on-going medication and the like. Evan had been quite concerned upon learning the time of her discharging-

"But I've got meetings all day till five! I can try to reschedule but..."

Alex, however, was having none of it, totally unfazed by the situation. Indeed, it gave her the perfect opportunity...and so, no sooner had Doctor Johnson handed over the last of her tablets, then there came a chirpy call from the corridor:

"Are you ready then, Bollinger-knickers?"

*~*~*~*~*~

In the car on the way home, the pair of them chatted away, the usual banter passing between them as though nothing had happened, Alex wanting to know everything that had happened to the DCI since they had last met, the DCI himself bashfully filling in the gaps in a gruff, self-deprecating manner, same as always.

"Grew up to be a charming man though, didn't he? Your ex," he muttered sarcastically, their little exchange suddenly coming back to him.

Alex sighed. She had wondered when this would come up.

"You must have thought I was crazy," she mumbled, staring down into her lap, "a fourteen year old boy..."

"Well," Gene muttered, clearly perturbed, lest he had upset her, "no more than usual, eh?"

Alex glanced up at him and couldn't help laughing. It was a strange perspective, now, being able to look back on it all, her colleague and friend, half-able at least, to understand where she was coming from.

The pair of them drove on in silence, not in the uncomfortable sense, but rather, appreciative of the company, each reminiscing about where they had come from and, perhaps more importantly, wondering where they would go next.

Pulling up outside the Drakes' abode, Alex was preparing to get out of the car when a strange embarrassment seemed to come over her companion. She had seen this before.

"Here's a suggestion, and it is only a suggestion but supposing we went out for dinner, just the three of us, Saturday night, my shout...course if you don't want to then stuff it..."

His cheeks burned once more and Alex couldn't help beaming.

"Gene," she smiled, "it would be my privilege."

*~*~*~*~*~

Gene had refused to divulge to Alex just where he would be taking them that Saturday night and so it was with great excitement and interest she and Molly made their way out of the house that evening.

The former DCI's heart thumped as he caught sight of Alex as she walked down the driveway, she really looked truly stunning. If only he could think of something appropriate to say...

"Blimey Bolls," he muttered, "you scrub up alright, don't yer?"

Not that. Fortunately, the DI understood him perfectly, "Not so bad yourself, gov," she grinned.

Gene blushed. He was about to invent a new shade of crimson when he caught sight of Molly.

"Evening little lady," he smiled, "good to see yer again."

*~*~*~*~*~

Driving through the streets, Alex got a strong sense of déjà-vu...and then she saw it.

Welling up with emotion, Alex climbed out of the car and stared at the dimly lit building in front of her, the red frilly awnings above the windows and its sloping entrance bringing back so many memories and emotions that she had feared would never be available to her again. And yet here she was.

The three of them descended the steps and entered the shadowy haven, its warm glow and mouth watering aromas filling their senses. Gene couldn't help but watch for Alex's reaction as she entered and was thrilled to see an expression of delight and affection appear on her face.

"Thankyou," she whispered to her former colleague as she turned towards him, her eyes shining, with just the first signs of tears welling up. Just then, in front of them appeared an elderly, round faced Italian looking man, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"Signorina Drake," he beamed affectionately, "it truly is an honour..."

*~*~*~*~*~

Alex could not believe her luck as, having been shown to the time-honoured trestle table in front of a, by now, very familiar, and much loved mural, she sat looking from one companion to another, Molly to her left and Gene to her right. Never in her wildest dreams could she have hoped for such a union and yet here she was, seated with the two most important people in her life in one very special place. She could, of course, have no idea what the future may hold for any of them, but what she did know, was that right now she was blissfully happy.

*~*~*~*~*~

**Fin**


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